


Under the Starry Night

by chanxoo (bluekyun)



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, holiday season themed, not necessarily christmas, slightly graphic car accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluekyun/pseuds/chanxoo
Summary: If there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s everything, from the way that you smile when you’re upset to the way that you lick your lips when you lie. But when he decides that he no longer wants to suffer through this one-sided love, he is instead left to pick up the pieces after a near fatal car accident.





	Under the Starry Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece to be posted here on AO3 - I'm essentially testing out the waters, and with the whole Tumblr situation, it might be best to at least keep some of my fics here. This is a lengthy little one shot I did for the holidays, enjoy!
> 
> \- VENUS

Winter used to be his favorite season of the year, using it as an excuse to stay inside and relax by the fire, a fire that he has a habit of needlessly feeding into the wee hours of the night. But lately, this winter in particular, has been exceptionally hard for him to surpass. After being friends for two years, he once thought that you could tell each other anything, but over the last month, your friendship has drastically changed. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment in which everything  started to fall apart, and although you don’t seem to be bothered by it, it continuously eats him alive.

Standing outside your apartment door, he scans the area for people nearby, unsure if he is making the right decision. Ringing his hands together, he tries to stop his trembling muscles, but as the seconds tick by, he debates if he should just turn around and head home. Taking one definite breath, he grabs hold of the knob, knowing full well that you always forget to lock your door. Peeking into the small crack, he attempts to find any light or sound as a sign of your presence, and from what he can tell, no lights are on, but he can hear the faint sound of water running. Slowing entering, he does his best to stay quiet as not to alarm you, and although he feels slightly guilty for sneaking into your apartment like this, he is determined to get an answer.

Taking off his shoes and setting them to the side, he walks down the hallway, and as he approaches your bedroom, he realizes that you are currently in the bath. Tuesday nights are set aside specifically for you to unwind and pamper yourself, usually including a bath and painting your nails. Normally he would be there to assist you considering you weren’t the best at painting with your right  hand, but you had excluded him from the last several sessions. A part of him hates knowing every habit of yours like the back of his hand, but it’s also partially the reason why he is so in love with you. He is able to see through every part of you, even through your façade, straight to the part of you that no one ever sees.

When he enters your room, the sound of splashing water catches his attention, the scent of your body wash filling his senses. Despite the feeling of comfort at the familiarity, his heart continues to painfully beat in his chest. The last thing he wants is for this friendship to burst into flames, but there is only so much heartache he can bare.

Holding his breathe, he takes one stop forward, stopping just short of the bathroom door. Now that he’s closer, he can hear the faint sounds of your humming. Even without him seeing you, in his mind you are the most beautiful in this moment, when you are unrestrained and carefree. He’s so used to pretending not to see through your mask that moments like this make him want to just sit here forever, appreciating every part of your being. He’s not ready to give this up for the sake of his selfishness, and although he would do anything for you, being your puppet for nearly two years has been enough. Not once have you looked at him the same way that he looks at you, and if either of you are going to find peace, then he needs you to decide.

Pepping himself up before he changes his mind, he pushes open the bathroom door. Instead of screaming like he would have expected, you only look up at him with saddened eyes. You are neither surprised nor angry, but only seem to have expected his visit.

“Hi Jiwon…” Despite your voice being hoarse and broken, you still try to give him a gentle smile. He doesn’t deserve you.

Immediately losing his train of thought, he just stares at you, unsure of what to do next. Sitting in front of him under a mountain of bubbles and bath water is his first love, and now that he is here to confront you, he’s not sure what to say. A part of him feels like an asshole, but considering that this is the most emotion you’ve shown in a while, he evidently came at exactly the right time.

Closing the door behind him, he sits down on the small rug, picking at the small pieces of fabric to buy himself some time. Taking a deep breath, he tries to choose his words carefully, hoping that he will be as clear as possible without upsetting you.

“Why are you avoiding me? What’s wrong?” His voice comes out more stern that he had planned, but he is only becoming increasingly frustrated by your cold demeanor. However, you aren’t phased by it, and instead you calmly lean back against the smooth porcelain tub.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you respond quickly, “I’ve just been busy lately.”

The moment he sees your tongue glide across your bottom lip, he feels the heat surfacing below his skin. Every time you lie, even the smallest of white lies, you have a habit of licking your lips. Most people might not notice it, but he knows you all too well. He’s called you out on it several times, but after a certain point, he stopped bringing it up since nothing seemed to change. You just continued to lie without consideration for his feelings. He considers it as part of your strategy to hide yourself, only an extension of your mask. He’s left it alone simply because he can see right through it, but right now, it is infuriating.

“Can you stop lying to me and just talk to me! I’m sick of having to pretend like I don’t understand you, like I have no idea what’s going on. Are we not friends?” If it were possible, then his ears would be fuming, likely to set off the fire alarm for the temperature at which his blood is boiling.

Without even batting an eye, you change your gaze to the ceiling, drops of water forming on the surface with the lights shining against your glistening lips.

“If that’s how you feel, then don’t be my friend. No one asked you to stay.” Despite sounding cold and confident, your voice waivers ever so slightly, so small that only he alone would be able to pick it up.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you stand up from the tub and grab the towel by the sink, instinctively wrapping it around your torso.

“Are you going to move or not?”

Standing up, he doesn’t break eye contact, but the moment he steps aside, you grab the handle, nearly swinging the door into his face. Although unintentional, it perfectly portrayed your desire to be left alone.

“Why are you like this? I don’t deserve this treatment from you. I just want to know what’s wrong, why is that so bad of me?” His response comes with pain dripping from his words, the pressure at his tear ducts threatening to spill.

His broken expression going unnoticed, you don’t bother to give him a response as you pull out an outfit from your drawers. For a while he stands there, dumbfounded by the way you entirely dismiss his existence.

“So you’re going to ignore me again?”

Nothing but the sound of the clock and the cars on the street can be heard. After slipping on a pair of jeans, you grab your jacket and walk away, not giving a damn about the mess you have left behind. Even if you didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to delve into whatever hell you were going through, he never once thought you would walk away. At least not as easily as you just did.

Following after, he watches as you rush out the front door, slamming it shut behind you. Every second that goes by, his heart breaks a little more, so consumed by the idea that he’ll never see you again that he doesn’t think twice about running after you.

Before you have the chance to get any farther, he latches onto to one of your sleeves, pulling you toward him as if it were his only hope.

“Let go.” You command, looking him directly in the eye.

He chooses not to say anything, instead grabbing your arm tighter. He is so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t notice the way you wince in pain.

Using your other hand, you push against his shoulder, and in the short second he loosens his grip, you rip your arm away. Before he can collect his bearings, he watches as you run from him, his worst nightmare manifesting itself in the blink of an eye.

Jiwon stands there frozen, watching as a speeding car flies by, blaring its horn as it travels directly at you, the one who so stupidly ran into the road without taking the time to look. In that moment he stops breathing, watching as your body slams into the windshield and rolls off the side only to land in a heap on the ground. Due to the black ice, hitting on the breaks only causes the car to skid and crash into one that was parked. But even with the deafening sound of the car horns, all he can think about is you.

Running to your side, he looks down at your bloodied face, littered with small cuts all the way from your chin to your temple. Cradling your cheeks in his shaky hands, he checks for signs of breathing, and when he sees none, he immediately places his finger against your neck. At first, he only feels frost-bitten skin, but the moment he senses a steady pulse, he lets out a breath of relief, but by doing so, he only releases tears. He is so utterly terrified, frozen, just from the thought of losing you permanently, and had he lost you in that moment, he would have considered himself lost amongst the soulless, his one source of happiness ripped from his grasp. His breathing becomes ragged as he sits in the frigid air with your limp body held tightly against his chest. With the cold nipping at his exposed skin, he focuses on keeping you alive, opening his jacket and pulling you close to him for warmth. With you wrapped safely inside, he tries calling for help.

As he looks back on the choices he’s made tonight, he realizes that it would have been best to have never shown up. He was desperate, impulsive, and now your life is on the line. None of the trouble was worth it, and he starts to wonder why he ever thought it was. When he looks over at the totaled car, he sees various people attempting to pull the unconscious man from the driver’s seat, and for the first time ever, he feels utterly powerless. To these people, he must not exist, as they don’t seem to notice the dying girl in his arms. Not one person has come his way to offer assistance. In the distance, he hears the roaring of sirens, but they don’t seem to arrive quickly enough. Every second that passes is one second closer to losing you, and the thought of having this be the way in which your friendship ends eats away at his resolve. The tears continue to fall onto the snow-covered pavement as he hunches over your body, doing his best to protect you, to save you. Nothing seems to be enough as your eyes are still closed shut, the blood staining the collar of your favorite shirt. He leans down, leaving a gentle kiss on your temple. With his lips frozen and numb, he isn’t able to feel much of anything, but hopes that in some way, you’ll be able to sense his presence, knowing that no matter happens, he will never leave your side. In the close distance, he can still smell the faint scent of laundry detergent, evidence that you still tend to oversaturate whenever you find the motivation to do laundry. All the memories come flooding back of when he used to help you with your laundry after first moving out from you parent’s house. You were a mess back then, not knowing much of anything about living on your own. Everything used to be simple, but time has only thrown him into a complicated situation which has only become more difficult to detach from.

Leaning his head back, snowflakes fall gently onto his skin, melting upon contact with his tear-stained cheeks. Just one more reason to hate winter.

In the back of his mind, he can’t help but think,

          _I just wanted to know if you could love me…_

* * *

It’s well into the eighth day of you being comatose in that bed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t losing his patience. He understands that the damage from the incident is extensive and that you will be in the hospital for a while, but he never imagined it would take this long for you to simply open your eyes. He wants nothing more than to talk to you, to comfort you, and to tell you that everything is going to be alright, but he can’t do that if you’re not awake to hear it. This doesn’t stop him from talking to you though, as it seems to be the only thing that is keeping him sane.

“I’m going to step out for a little bit, alright? I’ll grab coffee and be right back.”

By now, one would think he is used to the silence, but each time, it only wounds him. Standing up from the chair, he takes one last look at your sleeping face before silently exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

-

_The curtains had been pulled open earlier that morning, but it’s not until now that the sun makes an appearance through the cloudy skies. The beam of sunlight that pours through the window lands directly on you, illuminating the stark white sheets covering your body. Underneath the covers, the temperature rises slightly, and with the sudden change, your legs writhe in clear discomfort. Once your left foot frees itself from the confines of the oven, your body relaxes, relishing in the cool air against your skin. Your muscles are no longer tense, and you return to your previous state of unconsciousness._

-

Not a moment later, Jiwon enters the room, steaming coffee in his hand. As he approaches your bed, he stops in his tracks, immediately detecting that something is different. He looks for any signs, and when he checks your chart, noticing no recent updates, he frowns. The room is brighter for one thing, but that is true for the entire building. Walking over to your side, he delicately places his hand on your cheek. Your skin is warmer than earlier, but he dismisses it as being a result of the sun. However, when he turns to sit back in the chair, he loses grip on his coffee, spilling its entirety onto the tile floor.

Right in front of him is your foot, hanging off the side of the bed. He is certain that no one has been inside the room, and upon his exit, your limbs were covered. This is the first sign over the past eight days that you are still responding to the world around you. His mind races, conflicted, desperately running through his options. With his lack of sleep, he wouldn’t be surprised if he is delusional, but it’s something he needs to be real.

Pressing the button on the remote near the bed, he signals for the nurse. When she opens the door, the first thing she notices is the coffee on the floor.

“Sir, did you spill your coffee?”

Dumfounded, he loses his ability to speak, and instead points at your foot. At first she is confused, unsure of what he is trying to tell her, but after a moment, it clicks in her mind that he wasn’t the one to have moved you.

  
Rushing forward, the nurse checks your vitals and the temperature of your skin, and when she notices the sweat at your hairline, she notes that you are responsive. Grabbing a small towel from the cabinet, she runs it under cool water. She lightly dabs the cold cloth against your forehead, and when she notices the scrunch of your nose and the way you lean into the towel, she looks directly at Jiwon. Both of them stare at each other for a second, unsure if what they’re seeing is real.

“It’s hot…” You groan, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

Jiwon feels chills travel down his spine after having not heard your voice for so long. A sound he thought he might never hear again.

As soon as the nurse removes some of the sheets, she tries to ask a few questions.

“Y/N… can you hear me? How are you feeling?”

The only response she receives is another groan, but she considers that to be better than nothing.

Pulling up the chair, Jiwon grabs your hand, gently stroking it with his thumb. Despite the bruises, your skin is as soft as he knows it to be, and this fact alone is enough to convince him that he will soon be able to hold you in his arms once again. He is both terrified and excited that after all this time you will be waking up soon. His heart flutters just thinking about taking you home, just being with you. It’s the only thought that consumes his mind, so much so that he doesn’t even notice the moment you open your eyes.

“Who are you?”

Looking up, he’s ready to laugh at your poor excuse of a joke, but when he sees nothing but fear, the cold and distant look in your eyes, he realizes that you may not be joking at all. You pull your hand out of his, cradling it next to your chest as if it had been burned, and for the umpteenth time, he feels his heart shatter.

As much as he would like to think that this whole situation is a lie or some wicked dream, he knows the truth. Everything about this is real, and he hates it.

“This is Jiwon. Your boyfriend.” The nurse speaks softly as to not alarm you, but he only stiffens, realizing the implications of her words.

“Actually, I’m not your boyfriend. But we’re best friends… please, you have to remember me.”

Eyeing him and the nurse, you try your best to understand. All you know is that you’re in the hospital, your head aches, and there is this strange man who claims to know you. Thinking about it, you don’t remember much of anything, let alone how you got here.

“I’m sorry…”

That’s all you can think to say before lying back down against the pillow, covering your face with the blanket.

He only sits there, mouth agape, as he watches you hide yourself underneath the security of the hospital sheets. He only wishes to join you in hiding as reality begins to set in. You don’t recognize him. That fact hits him like a ton of bricks, several tons in fact, but not even that can compare to the amount of pain he feels. It would be one thing if you had forgotten what occurred prior to the incident, something he believes might have been best anyway, but you not recognizing him, his voice, his face, is something he is unlikely to recover from. All the time he had spent by your side over several years is now nothing more than dust in the wind, memories that he has become the sole owner of.

In the next moment, the doctor strides into the room, and upon grabbing the clipboard at the foot of the bed, a smile appears on his face.

“Glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Uncovering yourself, you place the blanket back on your lap, straightening out the creases one by one. You neither make eye contact with Jiwon nor the nurse, but instead look straight ahead.

“My neck hearts. My chest hurts. And I’m a little tired…”

Your voice slowly trails off as you try to think about everything, but the more you attempt to pick up the pieces, the worse your headache becomes. Noticing your pain-stricken face, the doctor moves up to the side of the bed, now putting distance between you and Jiwon.

“We’ll provide pain medication right away. Your chest probably hurts because of a few bruised ribs, but those will only heal with time. Luckily, there were no major injuries, although you will likely be sore for a while. Do you remember what happened to you?”

The whole room falls silent. Despite knowing the answer, Jiwon is still hesitant to hear the words come from your mouth.

“No… I don’t. I don’t know how I got here, or really anything for that matter.”

Writing a few things down on the clipboard, the doctor pauses for a moment before asking his next question.

“Do you know your name?”

“No.”

One word. That’s all Jiwon can take. Slamming back the chair, he rushes out of the room and down the hallway. Reaching a dead end, he slumps to the ground below the window, tears streaming down his face. All around him, everything is too loud, the sounds of chatter, the sounds of metal against metal, the damned sound of the clock ticking on the wall above him. Everything around him is falling apart, and yet he must be the one to act like everything will be okay, because that’s just who he _is_. He hates being weak, he hates being lost even more, but in this moment, there is nothing more he can do but accept the fact that your entire relationship is over. Your whole friendship now… gone.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he looks up to see the nurse squatting by his side. Wiping the tears from his face, he straightens his back in an attempt to look fine, but just like before, the flood only continues. Falling forward into her shoulder, the nurse tries to sooth him by rubbing circles on his back, and although she feels awkward, it pains her to see the loved ones of patients deal with the aftermath of amnesia.

The close proximity only reminds him more of you, how he wants this person to be you. Everything about this situation is unfair, but he also knows that between the two of you, he needs to be the one to stay strong if he ever wants to have some type of relationship. He wants to help you, _needs_ to help you for his own sake and for yours as well. He will be your caretaker, so long as you allow him, but if you never regain your memories and choose to have nothing to do with him, then that would be the point in which he will be forced to give up. But he will fight until the bitter end.

“There’s still a chance that she will remember everything later on, so please don’t lose hope just yet.”

Lifting his head from her shoulder, he looks into her eyes, hoping to find some truth to her words. When he notices the sincerity on her face, he tries his best to believe her, but a part of him is so absolutely terrified, that he’s afraid that his hope will only leave him in broken pieces if you don’t end up remembering a single thing of the love you once had for him. Although it was never romantic love, it was love nonetheless, and he would trade everything just to have that back. But for now, all he can do is wait.

The nurse helps him stand on his feet, and nodding his head, he gives a silent thanks to which she only responds with a smile. Walking ahead of him, the nurse leads him back to the room, but before he enters, he takes one last deep breath.

“No matter what happens, don’t give up. She’ll remember, she has to remember…” He quietly repeats to himself.

Walking into the room, he sees you in the bed still lost in conversation with the doctor, but when you notice his presence, all your attention is directed to him, every word now going in one ear and out the other. Both of you stare at each other for a while, and when the doctor notices that you have stopped listening, he glances behind his shoulder to see Jiwon standing casually in the doorway.

“Come in. We’re just discussing basic details right now, like name, birthdate, just trivial things.”

Looking between you and the doctor, he only nods before returning to his seat next to the bed. When he peeks up at you, he notices your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and the expression on your face only pains his heart. You mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’ and he can already feel the tears threatening to spill again, but before they can, he sucks them back in. Even if you don’t remember anything, he still wants you to see him as the one who will take care of you, the strong one who will fight through anything for you, even if it nearly kills him in the process. Especially in this moment, you need him more than anything, and he isn’t about to let you down.

Much of the conversation between you and the doctor goes over Jiwon’s head, only nodding whenever his input was desired, but other than that, he becomes lost in his own thoughts. He wonders what will happen the moment you are released from the hospital, if you will still want to be near him or want nothing to do with him, but that thought alone is enough for a few tears to break past their barrier once again. Before, he was prepared for your friendship to end, even prepared for the endless, sleepless nights and the constant pain every time you crossed his mind, but at least then you would have had all your memories and maybe have shared the pain, too. But now… there is no chance of salvaging it. If you can’t remember him, then there’s nothing more he can do.

“You should be released in a day or two, but for now just rest and we’ll do a few more tests in a while.” With a slight smile, the doctor bows his head before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

_A few more days…_

Having to wait before taking you home, before being with you in private, before figuring out the status of your relationship is an unbelievably difficult task, and if he is going to get any peace until then, he needs to talk to you now while he still has the chance.

He tries to scan your facial expression for any signs of your feelings, and he hopes that if he just looks into your eyes he will know everything just like he could before. But when you finally glance in his direction, there is no familiarity. There is no longer that softness that you used to have or the glints of hope during even the most hapless situations. You are someone he doesn’t even recognize.

Losing his desire to talk, he leans back into the chair, and with his hands behind his head, he closes his eyes to think. The first thing he needs to do when you are released is take you to all the places that might bring back memories: your first trip together to the coast, your favorite reading nook inside the public library, even the spot under the tree where your last boyfriend dumped you might be powerful enough to spark something. He is willing to try anything and everything, and before he is able to realize it, he is back to square one, to where this whole situation started under the spell that is you.

“Um… Jiwon.”

The sound of your voice pulls him back from the recesses of his mind and with lightning speed, he sits up in his seat, ready to listen to your words, but as he looks at you, he notices the guilt on your face.

“I’m sorry, but can you leave… I don’t know what kind of relationship we had before, but you don’t have to stay.”

You are both decisive but indecisive with your words, simultaneously wanting him to leave but also understanding that it is not an easy task to do. Being alone in the room with him only makes you uncomfortable, and without you having said anything, he would have quickly figured it out, but he never expected you to be so verbal about it. It is very unlike you. And as much as he would like to think that your words, although not intentionally filled with poison, will destroy every last shred of hope he has left, he is truthfully too exhausted and numb to be effected. Like before, he will do anything for you, even if it means leaving your side. He knows later, though, that the pain will only leave him as an empty shell of his previous self.

“Sure. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”

Standing up, he pushes the chair against the wall before turning on his feet. Without giving you a second glance, he walks to the door, too afraid that the sight of you will break his façade.

“Oh, uh… you don’t have to-”

Before you finish your sentence, Jiwon leaves, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t want you to finish that sentence, he doesn’t think he’d be able to live had he heard you finish it, and hopefully now, you will understand that no matter what you say, he will be back every day. He’s stubborn, he knows this, and that’s something you will come to learn again, too.

Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths, but as much as he tries to relax, his fingers continue to tremble even in the tautness of his clenched fists. He feels himself become dizzy, the hospital too suffocating and too obnoxiously sterile. He needs fresh air before he ends up in a stretcher himself, so with quick feet, he dashes to the stairwell. In his descent, he tries not to trip, holding onto the railing for dear life as he feels himself slowly losing grip with reality. He loses track of the number of flights, the number of stairs, and all he can think about it making it the bottom and getting out. After he finally reaches the first floor, legs feeling like jelly, his shaky hands push open the door. Seeing himself back in the lobby surrounded by the sick and suffering only urges another wave of dizziness, and as he stumbles toward the entrance, he feels holes burning into his back, probably gazes from employees who notice that he is clearly ill. Going through the automatic doors, he is hit with a wall of cold air, and taking a seat on a ledge nearby, he falls into the snow-covered soil that once held a bed full of flowers. Despite the bites to his skin, his body still burns, the ice not being enough to cool him down. Feeling himself lose consciousness, he tries to slap himself awake considering the last thing he wants is to be in the hospital alongside you. His utter fear of hospitals is what normally keeps him away, and he’ll be damned if he is wheeled in there when he could just be resting at home.

Grabbing the keys from his pocket, he sits up slowly as to not aggravate his vertigo, and once standing, he gingerly makes his way to the parking lot, making sure that no one had witnessed his episode. Finally inside the car, he blasts music hoping that the noise will prevent him from falling unconscious at the wheel, and although he knows he shouldn’t be driving, his only thoughts are to get home so he can sleep through the next couple of days until you are released.

It only takes a few moments before he’s out on the road. He does his best to concentrate on the task at hand, but every time he reaches a stop light, he becomes nervous as once his body is no longer preoccupied, it begins to shut down. Every few feet he swerves, not enough to be alarming to anyone else, but enough for him to notice that he won’t be able to drive for much longer. Seeing his apartment complex in the distance, he picks up his speed, racing past several cars to get to his destination. Thankfully, he has his own designated space where he lives, so parking at the very least isn’t going to be an issue.

Upon driving into the garage, he notices the spaces mostly empty, and taking a deep breath, he pulls into his spot, surprised that he parked straight on the first try. Getting out of the car, he nearly collapses, his legs still not yet recovered. Holding onto the side of the car and the wall, he reaches the elevator, and even after pressing the button several times, it feels like an eternity passes before it reaches the garage floor. Stumbling inside, he leans back against the railing, anxiously watching the numbers increase as they get closer and closer to his floor. The ding of the elevator never sounded so sweet, and with the doors opening, he feels the extra push of adrenaline he’ll need to make it to his room.

His hands, still unsteady, struggle to put the key into the lock, but after several attempts, he makes it in on luck alone. Opening the door, he is met with darkness and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, but that doesn’t deter him from going to where he really wants to be - his bed.

 

 

* * *

 

[ Seven days pass ]

After his first visit, flowers and candy in hand, you had politely asked him not to return during the rest of your stay. As much as he would have liked to ignore it and continue to show up despite your protests, he realized that if he ever wants to have some type of friendship, then he will need to build your trust from the ground up and give you the space that you need. During those days, he spent his time in the studio, either making music to get his mind off you or making music specifically for you, and whenever he went home in the middle of the night, often around four in the morning, he could only lie awake in bed, thinking of every possible way he might get you to remember him. In the rare instances he could fall asleep, he would only dream of your face, like a haunting image forcing him awake in a puddle of his own sweat, heart beating as if he ran a marathon. He had no desire to eat or do much of anything, and it was slowly killing him.

When he received the call from the hospital, he was busy in his studio, hand clutched to his mouse, clammy from stress, and he was so engrossed in his task that he almost missed his phone ringing in the background. It took all of two seconds to collect his things before he got into the car, speeding past everyone that got in his way.

Standing in front of the automatic doors, he tries to plan his conversation, what he might say and your possible responses, but no matter how many times he goes through the scenario in his mind, he realizes that all of them seem unlikely. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, he buries himself in his oversized clothes, looking down as to not make eye contact with any of the staff. Having the route to your room memorized, he doesn’t bother looking up, only to press the button of the elevator. Once inside, he takes one final breath, the contents of his stomach flipping over a million times in anticipation of finally taking you out of here. He willingly volunteered to bring you home, as he would have it no other way. He only trusts you in his care.

The bell of the elevator signals his exit, and upon stepping onto the sterilized white tile, he hears the faint sound of your laugh in the distance, automatically drawing a smile across his face. Even in his darkest times, listening to you laugh at your own jokes was enough to pull him from his foreboding hole, and no matter how hard he tried not to react, you were so adorable to him. Thinking back to those times only makes his heart flutter more, and with giddiness now flooding his system, he doesn’t hesitate to skip down the hall toward your room.

As soon as he enters, he observes you deep in conversation with the same nurse from before. When you notice his presence leaning against the door frame, a bright smile spreads across your face. You aren’t sure what had pushed you to respond in this way, but your body was acting on auto-pilot, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Just the sight of it alone is enough for his heart to skip a beat, and once again, his mind is flooded with hope that maybe you will remember him after all, and so long as he can continue to make you smile like this, he might survive this whole ordeal.

“Come on in.” The nurse insists lightly, motioning for him to stand near the bed.

“Everything is set for her to be discharged. All her tests came back normal, and all she really needs is rest, so I recommend not a lot of moving around. She is still in the process of remembering a lot of things, but she seems to have the basics.”

  
Stepping closer to him, just slightly out of earshot, the nurse gives him a warning.

“Don’t try to force memories on her if you can. It might make things worse. Everything will happen in time.” With a sincere smile, she steps away and focuses her attention back on you, helping you stand up from the bed.

Grabbing the bag from underneath his arm, he hands it to the nurse. Looking inside, she rummages through the pile of clothes before picking out a pair of leggings and a large sweater.

“These are a few of your clothes. It will be best to dress comfortably, so only wear lose fitting shirts as to not aggravate your bruised ribs.” Nodding your head, you grab the clothes from her arms.

“I’ll be waiting outside.” He adds, taking his leave alongside the nurse to give you privacy.

The nurse returns to her station behind the desk, and he is left leaning against the wall, thinking about the activities he has planned for the day. He is still unsure how much of it you’ll enjoy or if you even want to spend time with him today, but he is determined to at least get you out for a little while. More so for you than for him, as he can only imagine just how boring it is to sit in the hospital for extensive amounts of time. His only concern is that you’ll allow him to take you out in hopes of seeing that beautiful smile on your face once again.

As soon as the door opens, his train of thought is broken, and when he looks over at you, his heart stops. He hasn’t seen you in a pair of normal clothes in what feels like forever, and although your hair is somewhat of a mess, you are still as bright as you once were, glowing as if the hospital never had a hold on you in the first place. Just another reminder of why he loves you - nothing in the world can get in the way of your cheerful presence.

“Ready to go?” You question, pretending as if you never once noticed he was lost in thought.

Walking into the elevator, both of you are silent as several visitors, patients, and staff file in. The small space is cramped, and with the two of you packed into the corner, taking it slow on the physical aspect of your relationship is immediately thrown out the window. With your back flesh against his body, you feel your cheeks heat up, and with him squirming behind you uncomfortably, your bodies were only making more contact. Any shift he makes, you can feel, and with so many people around, it feels like a hundred degrees. The bell of the elevator and the opening of the doors are your saviors and as everyone scatters, you run into the middle of the hall, stopping short as you wait for Jiwon to lead the way. When he doesn’t appear on either side of you, you panic for a small moment, but when you turn around, you see him standing right outside the elevator with a sly smirk.

“W-what?” You stammer, awkwardness and mortification clear in your voice. Had he seen something? Felt something? If your cheeks were pink before, they are now a vivid red, matching the color of your sweater.

“Oh, nothing. Let’s go.” The smirk doesn’t disappear as he heads to his right toward to the entrance of the hospital.

“That little…” Biting your tongue, you try to suppress your sudden irritation at the boy in front of you, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have just tackled him then and there.

You had met him only a week ago, at least for the second time, but every minute that you spend near him, you feel more and more comfortable, like you had known each other for ages. It is odd considering you still couldn’t remember anything about your past, but deep in your heart, there is familiarity.

Running after him, you slip into the passenger’s seat of the car, immediately noticing the cleanliness and extensive stereo system. Starting the ignition, he makes his way toward your apartment, leaving the music to lull over the silence.

“So… you’re into music?” You ask sheepishly, not quite sure where to begin the conversation.

“I guess you could say that. I produce my own music, and I enjoy writing lyrics.”

Leaning back in the seat, you allow his words to sink in, hoping that it might spark some memories, but when nothing comes to mind, you decide to continue.

“That’s really cool. I’m guessing you have a studio or something.”

Nodding his head, he smiles at your interest in his work. It’s like becoming friends all over again, and it sends a warmth straight to his heart. Sometimes he would wonder what it’d be like to go through it all again, before any feelings were involved. Having to start over like this only reminds him of when things were easy, all those years ago.

“My room has become my studio. It has all my equipment and everything.” He remarks, a hint of pride breaking through.

“D-do you think I might be able to see it?” Biting your lip, you try to calm your beating heart, hoping you didn’t come off too strong.

Unable to hide his emotions any longer, he turns to you and shows you the sweetest and brightest smile. The sight alone is enough to give you butterflies in your stomach.

“Of course.” The smile on his face becomes contagious, invisible strings pulling at the sides of your mouth.

Parking alongside the curb, Jiwon gets out of the car only to walk around and open your door. He does his best to help you walk up the slippery steps, and with your keys in hand, he slides it into the lock. Walking through the hallway and entering the living room, it’s chilly and silent, so his first instinct is to put a log into the fireplace. Watching from behind, you take off your shoes and your jacket, astounded at everything in front of you. For lack of better words, your apartment is beautiful, definitely your taste, at least from what you can understand. The light tones of blue along with gold accents are extremely eye-catching, and the furniture appears to be high-end. You aren’t exactly sure how you managed to afford everything, but you hope that is only from years of dedication and hard work.

Leaning against the back of the couch, you watch as Jiwon lights a match and tosses it into the black pit, the log catching fire and illuminating the room. He seems comfortable and knowledgeable of the space as he had probably spent countless hours here with you before the incident. Thinking about it now, this whole situation must not be easy on him whatsoever, and for that you feel nothing but guilt. Even though it wasn’t entirely your fault, you knew that your initial coldness toward him must not have been pleasant. You will try to warm up to him and test the waters, but if there isn’t any chemistry to be salvaged, then you will have no choice but to walk away. A feat that you know will not be easy.

Stepping aside, he walks over to the cabinet near the large television. He scans through the movies, examining every cover, until he finally finds the one he had been looking for.

“Get comfortable, I’ll go grab a blanket for you.” He insists, rushing past you toward an area in the back of the apartment.

Following his directions, you take place on one side of the couch, brushing your hand over the soft suede. The material is delightful, allowing you to draw patterns with a simple stroke of your finger. When Jiwon returns, he places the oversized blanket across your body, making an effort to tuck it in at your sides. After inserting the disc, he takes a seat on the adjacent cushion, leaving a reasonably sized distance between the two of you. Normally, he would have sat a lot closer, especially during _The Notebook_ , but he decides to let you survive the movie on your own.

For you, it is a brand new movie, a new experience entirely, and for every scene that clutches at your heart strings, you subconsciously reach for Jiwon’s arm, holding onto it tightly as if it will prevent the tears from haplessly rolling down your cheeks. The impending heart break from the ending shatters your resolve to tiny pieces, almost the size of the ones your heart is now left in, and with you now clutched onto his arm like a koala, he is engulfed with memories from the very first time you had both watched the movie and every time after. Just like now, you wound yourself around him for comfort, and the habit, even with your amnesia, has not died.

All it takes is the credits to start rolling for you to notice your intimate position, and once you detach yourself, you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, likely a million times hotter than the fire itself. You are embarrassed and so confused, but the fact that he doesn’t seem to mind is what worries you even more.

“Are you alright?” He asks, a lop-sided grin adorning his soft features.

You can’t even handle looking him directly in the eye.

“I’m fine.” You respond defiantly, shifting in your seat so that you are now facing the fireplace.

Leaning to the side, he catches the glimpse of you licking your lips, and just like so many times prior, not even little white lies can escape without your Pinocchio syndrome kicking into full gear. Although it is to be expected, the sight warms his heart knowing that at least some parts of you are still the same.

“That was a good movie even though I sobbed like a small child. You said it was one of my favorites, right?” You ask shyly, murderous embers still burning the flesh of your face.

“Yeah, we used to watch it a lot,” he pauses, brushing his hair back with his hand, “even after a hundred times, you still cried the same way.”

Nodding your head, you focus on the wall as it shifts in color with waves of orange and yellow from the fire, and as you rub at your cheeks, you realize that your blush will not be disappearing anytime soon.

“Hey… Jiwon?”

The moment he hears those words, his body stiffens, nervous of what you might say next. The last time you had spoken those words, you had asked him not to return to the hospital, and if you have the same goal in mind, then he might have to walk out the door within the next few minutes. Clenching his jaw, he waits for you to continue, and with each passing second, a million more scenarios run through his mind.

“Do you think we can go out for a bit? I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.”

Looking over in utter shock, he contemplates if he had originally misheard you, but when he sees the innocent look on your face, cheeks still stained pink, he realizes that you are serious in your request.

Without another word, he stands from the couch, grabbing your hand in his. Offering your jacket, he urges you to put it on as he slips his arms through his own. Once your shoes are on, he doesn’t hesitate before pulling you out the front door and down the street. As the cold air nips at your exposed skin, you look at the scenery around you, as you had been unable to do so during the car ride. The neighborhood is quiet and neat, various children outside playing with the leftover snow still glued to the sidewalk. You don’t even notice that your hand had once again found solace in his, too preoccupied by the subtle warmth it gave you. Despite the temperature dropping below freezing, being outside is strangely comforting, giving you a sense of freedom that you haven’t had in what feels like forever. Even if you couldn’t remember anything, your body still held all the physical memories, and from what you are able to tell, you are greatly accustomed to this type of weather.

Jiwon continues to walk alongside you, but as the streets become more packed with people, you find yourself falling slightly behind his steps as he weaves you through the crowd. It isn’t until you run into the back of his black puffy coat that you realize that he had stopped.

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Peaking around his shoulders, you realize that you are situated in front of a small stand run by a man and a smaller person who appears to be his daughter. Without letting go of your hand, he reaches into his pocket for money, and once he receives his change, he hands over a steaming cup of cocoa.

“They live in the apartment down the way from yours. Every winter they sell hot chocolate to raise money for her studies. You’re their biggest patron.” He smiles lightly, holding his cup close to his chest.

With a slight bow, both of you continue on your way. As you get closer to the center of town, you notice the various lights strung across the trees and around the streetlamps. People litter the sidewalk holding steaming cups and various sugary treats, and once you start to hear the faint sounds of orchestral music, you realize that this is more than just a coincidence.

“Where are we going?” You ask quietly, voice subjugated by the surrounding chatter and activity.

“Winter festival. The city holds it every year and people come from all over to get their hands on all the fresh baked goods. These treats only appear once a year.”

“That’s so cool.” With a genuine smile, you look around at the various stands and booths, watching people of all ages enjoy the delicacies. Even the hot chocolate in your hand tastes like pure heaven, made from expensive chocolate likely flown in from overseas. So delicious that you might even go back for seconds.

What amazes you more though is that in in this small trip, night had fallen quickly, and with the various lights and lanterns, the street is still lit up and full of life as if darkness had no control of the their joy. Everyone that surrounds you is filled with laughter, carefree in their movements as they skip between every stand. It is a kind of welcoming you could only dream about, and now that you are finally here, you don’t even know where to look. It is all so beautiful that you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, realizing just how lucky you are to be alive.

The feeling of warmth around your hand catches your attention, and when you glance over, you notice that Jiwon had placed both your hands inside his jacket pocket. You had completely forgotten that he had never once let go, but without having any gloves in your possession, you aren’t complaining. Jiwon had claimed that the two of you were never in a romantic relationship, but from the way he acts, sweetness and all, you begin to wonder if that might have been a lie. Inside, you are conflicted, knowing full well that there is something odd about holding hands with him, as you don’t remember him at all and he is more so a kind stranger, but your body continues to have a mind of its own.

You become so engrossed in your surroundings, the sounds of laughter and children playing games, that you don’t even realize exactly how far you’ve walked. Most of the festival is left behind, forgotten in the wind, the quiet night taking over once again. Underneath your feet, you can hear the crunching of snow and ice and the melodic breathing of Jiwon beside you, but listening closely, you can make out the sound of crashing waves.

“Are we… going to the beach?” Squeezing your hand, he smiles, showing his smile once again.

“One of your favorite things to do is walk along the beach at night. At least it used to be.” He does his best to not sound disappointed, but his strained and quiet voice doesn’t slip past your ears. He is hurting, just as you would have expected, and it only makes your heart ache, realizing there is little comfort you can give him at the moment. Instead you walk along beside him, hand still in his, as you step across the boardwalk and down toward the water. From your spot above the sea, you notice the thick layer of snow covering what you assume to be the sand, still in pristine condition and left untouched.

“There’s at least six inches of snow here.” He notes, more so to himself than to you. It is unlikely you would want to walk on the beach now, as you both would be forced to trudge through nothing but ice.

Without a moment of hesitation, you pull your hand from his, grabbing his arm and bringing him down the creaking wooden steps. The moment your feet land in the blanket of white crystals, you are filled with a child-like frivolity, a sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins. Unlike the streets of town, the snow here is a soft as feathers, pure white as if freshly fallen, and with the temperature still being cold enough, the layers are firm, giving you a delightful idea. Running ahead, you do your best to trudge through without tripping and once there is a large enough distance between you two, you drop to your knees, shoveling large amounts of snow into your hand. Upon having your fill, you compact the chunks into a large enough ball, knowing fully well that Jiwon will only be a few steps behind you. With nothing but the sound of the shore and crashing waves, you can immediately tell when he is only a couple meters away. Not sparing a second, you turn around with the snowball in your hand, ready to aim, but the moment you look in his direction, you realize that you might have waited a moment too long.

One thing Jiwon is grateful for is that even after losing your memories, you are still the same person, habits and all, so when he saw you running ahead, he knew exactly what you were up to. He initially hoped that seeing the beach in the dead of winter would help remind you of the past, but it only brought back memories for him of the prior year when you had first heard of the festival, dragging him along the whole thing only for him to play games, winning you every plushie that you had so sweetly asked for. That day, you both walked down this same boardwalk, only for you to throw the first snowball at his head. Spending time with him like this was the break from life that you needed, and you had dusted off all worries from your shoulders, relishing in the moment of youth. It was a moment you held dear to your heart, even framing the picture of you both with your backs against the horizon, rosy cheeks and tired eyes. He thinks back to that day a lot, especially lately, realizing just how perfect life used to be before you had so suddenly started to avoid him, not answering his texts and skipping out on days when you were supposed to hang out. But having you here now gave him a little peace, and even if you never regain those memories, he is determined to make new ones with you.

The compacted snow lands directly on your forehead, breaking apart and scattering onto your cheekbones. From your position on the ground, you can see his victorious grin, a sight that both lightens you heart and lights a flame within you. Clutching the snowball tightly in your bare hand, singed from the cold, you use fast reflexes to throw it in his direction. Unfortunately for you, your aim is as good as a small child’s, and you miss his body entirely. He takes a moment to look to the small pile behind him only to turn around and chuckle slightly, probably one of the most genuine reactions you have ever seen. It isn’t malicious in any way, but a sincere laugh that falls from his chapped lips. Despite feeling embarrassed from your poor excuse of a throw, you are determined to at least get a hit. You use your numbed fingers to pull together another pile of soft snow, sections slipping through your fingertips, and once you have enough, you squish it together to form a haphazard ball. Deciding to close the distance, you swiftly stand from your spot and chase after him, only for him to dodge you, jumping away. The amount of snow makes it hard to traverse through the mounds, but once you are close enough, you throw the snowball, landing directly at the back of his neck. Watching him squirm as the shards fall past the collar of his jacket brings you a kind of happiness you didn’t know you were capable of - the kind you feel when you look at someone you love.

The snow that lands against his skin melts upon contact, and without being able to do much more, he stands there and pouts playfully, slightly annoyed by his back being wet which now only feels cold and uncomfortable. Grabbing another pile of snow, he doesn’t bother to form it before he starts chasing after you, the snow crunching loudly beneath his weight. At this point, his movement resembles that of a rabbit, hopping as he tries to catch up to your quick feet. You have always been a lot better than him at running in the snow, and he loves watching the way in which your body moves freely, as if you were bred for the winter, and although he will never be able to live up to you in that way, he knows that his lack of athletic ability has been more fun for you anyway.

Taking a breather, you allow him to close the gap, but before you are able to turn and run away, he throws the pile of snow in your direction, scattering like fallen snow around you. Even in the moonlight, the snowflakes glisten brightly. The similarity between the snow and stars in the sky in uncanny, the scenery so beautiful that it’s as if you’re in a dream. Not even the heavy breathing can deter you from appreciating the sight of in front of you. You are so focused on everything else that you don’t notice Jiwon come up beside you, slipping his arms around your waist as he spins you around. For a split second, both of you seem to forget about the incident, now lost in each other’s presence, simply enjoying being with one another on this fine winter night. As he turns on his feet, he clumsily trips on himself, sending you both falling into the snow. Albeit facing the threats of frost bite, the position is delightfully comfortable as if you were lying on an actual bed, with both of you staring up at the night sky. Dark clouds of various magnitude invade the inky blackness, covering every constellation and shining planet, becoming victim to their somber opacity.

Both of you lie there for a while, basking in the serenity, and as the clouds continue to roll over, storm on its way, you feel the sudden urge to return home. You had an amazing day and considering that these would now become your first memories, you only think about the upcoming days, weeks, even years, and the many other adventures that have yet to come.

Far in the distance and in the vastness of the sky, you notice tiny specks contrasting with the dark clouds, and it isn’t until they are mere meters away that you realize that snow is beginning to fall. All around you, flakes land, but when one lands at the tip of your nose, a shockwave courses through you, from your head straight to your toes. The sudden jerking movement alarms him and in seconds he is at your side checking to see if you’re alright, but when you don’t immediately respond, he is conflicted with fear.

Ever since he brought you home, you haven’t once complained to him about feeling pain. Thinking back to the amount of activity from today, blatantly ignoring the nurse’s words, he realizes his lack of consideration might have actually made your condition worse.

“Jiwon…” Before you realize, the tears are streaming down the sides of your face burrowing into the snow below. The tears become choked sobs for every attempt at holding them back, and while becoming so overrun with emotion, you only yearn to be held in his arms. Without having said another word, he lifts your body from the ground, cradling you against his chest.

“What’s wrong, please tell me what’s wrong…” He pleads, voice shaky.

You can feel everything, see everything. You know exactly where you are. And you know exactly who’s eyes those are.

In the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the clouds, he tries his best to read the expression on your face, but he can only make out the fear and confusion, missing the special glimmer in your eye that he had been searching for all along.

“Ji-won… I remember… I r-remember everything.” You pause marginally in a fit of hiccups, giving him a chance to absorb your words. The moment you see the slight quiver of his bottom lip, a sudden rush of guilt floods your system.

“I’m so s-sorry. I was s-so stupid, I wasn’t thinking, and I p-probably scared you so badly, I just can’t believe all of that happen-” Grabbing the sides of your face, he crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every word and sound.

Upon hearing those words, he nearly lost himself, the mere thought of having you back pushing him over the edge, enough to do something he had been dying to do since he first realized he had feelings for you. Just like he imagined, your lips are soft and unlike the surrounding air, they are as warm as can be, likely more sweet than any of the items sold at the festival. Even for you, the kiss is magical, unlike anything you could have imagined, the way his lips fit perfectly with yours, his movements in sync with your own. The kiss itself is forgiving, as delicate as the wind itself, and if it wasn’t for the cold nipping at your exposed skin and the threat of frost bite, you would be convinced you were floating on clouds.

Despite his utmost desires, Jiwon breaks away, looking you directly in the eye for any signs of wrong doing, and when he sees nothing but sadness, he becomes apprehensive. He has wished for this for so long, so much that it got in the way of putting you first, and without knowing how you feel, he is unsure of what to do next. All he wants is for you to know that everything is alright, and that he will always be there for you, but because of his impulsiveness, he feels your friendship slipping from his grasp.

“I… I want to talk about earlier, Jiwon. I’m sorry for being so cold…” Several tears fall from your eyes, taking solitude in the confines of your ears. “I just… I was scared. I was scared… of my feelings for you. I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I thought if I just removed myself, I could figure it out, but it only made it more complicated,” forgetting to breathe, you suddenly choke on your words, the icy wind constricting your lungs, “I’m sorry that I put you through this, that I made you worry, that I hurt you, dammit, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you…” Taking a deep breath, you struggle for air, and with the flood gates still open, it becomes difficult for you to concentrate on the words you truly want to say.

“Shhh… I need you to breathe. Breathe easy. Because everything is okay.” Watching you break down like this hurts him deeply, cutting at the deepest parts of his soul, but to hear you admit your feelings is one of the last things he ever expected.

Holding you close against him, face buried into the plush of his coat, he watches as the descending snowflakes scatter with the wind, dancing in synchronization and floating delicately to the ground. Despite having the love of his life in his arms, sitting peacefully underneath the clouds in the snowbank, his opinion has not changed: he still hates winter.


End file.
